


Gone With the Wind

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Mild Angst, Out of Character, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Everytime someone introduces us or talks about us, we’re tagged as Malfoy’s lackeys. Nobody ever said we’re hid friends, and rightly so.





	Gone With the Wind

It’s windy today.

And yet, I’m not cold. I think and nothing else. Even though most people think I’m not capable of it.

Vincent’s got a fever. This morning he told Draco he didn’t really feel like getting up.

He always put up an air of dignity for these occasions. He’s afraid of Draco, of what he may think of him.

I know he just wants to skip Transfiguration, that he doesn’t feel like losing points just because he’s incapable of executing even the simplest spells.

And yet, he pretends to be sick a couple times a month, and for those two mornings he avoids to bear useless humiliations.

Like he, as well as I, could really escape.

I’ve gotten used to this life a long time ago. I’ve got used to feel uncomfortable everywhere, with whomever I am.

I turn to face Hogwarts, my face upwind. The frozen lashes barely touch me, lost as I am in this sort of uneasiness.

This place means everything for most of the people there. I, instead, constantly feel as, once out of here, I won’t have anything to remember, nothing worth keeping in my mind.

From time to time, maybe, I would’ve thought about those days spent behind Draco, like Vincent and I were supposed to catch him, was he to fall.

Everytime someone introduces us or talks about us, we’re tagged as Malfoy’s lackeys. Nobody ever said we’re hid friends, and rightly so.

Draco didn’t think about us like that either, and we knew it all too well. What I’ve been wondering about as of late, is whether or not I consider him a friend.

Is it really a friend someone who didn’t think you are?

Is it really a friend someone convinced you exist just to satisfy his whims of spoilt teen-ager?

I’ve realized that maybe he needs Vince and me more than we need him.

Vincent Crabbe is my friend, and I’m his. This is what we have, and this is enough for us.

All the rest... the war, the Dark Lord, Draco’s tribulations... they’re just a life we see a mere reflection, that doesn’t belong to us, but that we look on as unpaying bystanders.

The only regret I’m gonna have one day, I already know, it’ll be that I’ll have behind me more of other people’s life to tell about than my own.

But it doesn’t matter that much. I stay here in the background with my friend, always lowering my eyes and waiting to get out untouched from this madness, for which I can’t do a thing, not against not in favour of it.

Vince and I watch.

I feel the wind calming down. And my thoughts fade with it.

When I’ll feel it blow again, impetuous, maybe then it’ll be time to act.

Or to wait for others to act on my stead, as usual.


End file.
